


Ensnared

by Tenebrum



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Characters mentioned will show up at some point, Creampie, Double Penetration, Drabble, Ensemble Cast, Fucking for peace?, How Do I Tag, How many more orafices can I stuff with tentacles?, Let's find out!, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sensory Deprivation, Size Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Triple Penetration, at least the artifact is having fun, this is also what happens when I'm bored at work, this is what happens when I try to write ambiguity, when I get aroud writing them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27511435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenebrum/pseuds/Tenebrum
Summary: All artifacts hold power. The most powerful ones have wills and motivations too. As both sides of the Cybertonian civil war find out, some are very intent on ending the conflict between their people. Let's say the end of the war will not be written down in the history books this way...
Relationships: Everyone/Tentacles, oc/tentacles
Comments: 34
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 100% self-indulgent fic. This happened when I was bored at work and had no supervision...  
> I regret nothing!!  
> Might post similar drabbles in the future.  
> I have some...ideas...

Twisting and turning, pushing and pulling, secretions dripping onto plating and oozing into seams. Conductivity making the charge leaping between plating rocket up, pleasure intensifying. Eager tendrils worming themselves into transformation seams, stoking the quivering protoform beneath. Fans whirring on maximum capacity, trying to cool off the overheated frame, and failing miserably. Vocalizer glitching, emitting bursts of staticky moans, muffled through the vine stuffed down the bot’s intake. This particular one is feeding a steady supply of organically-refined energon into their tanks, keeping their energy levels firmly in the green zone, even though the numerous overloads they’ve gone through. 

Charge being coaxed higher and higher, by the two tentacles pushing into the quivering, overstuffed valve, lubricant dripping, squelching as the limbs move in tandem, staining them bright pink. Another vine, this time wrapped around their spike, twisting, caressing brightly lit biolights, teasing sensor nodes with tiny feelers. The frequency of their moans increasing, as their ceiling node is being hammered, all the while a third tendril joins in, winding around the two already slick vines, stretching their valve to full capacity. Their processor on a steady path towards overheating. Processing chains forming and being immediately wiped away by the sheer pleasure coursing through their sensor net. 

They came here because…the thought process cuts off, restarting a few kilks later…there was an artifact?...yes one of the ancient artifacts, even before the 13 Primes…of course, both factions wanted it for themselves, even if no-one still functioning knew it’s intended purpose. Well…it did not become clear even after activation…they struggled to online their optics, trough the half-gloom of the artifact-created jungle canopy. They aren’t the only bot suspended by the vines, and writhing on the throes of pleasure. All around, bots from both factions hang, like particularly lewd living ornaments. Flightframes, grounders and anything in-between, with their valves and intakes stuffed full, charge high, their staticky cries and moans echoing all around. Some of them paired up, bound together, into a heated embrace, array to array, spark to spark. 

It looks like the ancient relic is intent on fragging the thought of fighting out of their processors, and doing an incredibly efficient job of it. They couldn’t even remember which faction they belonged to, not helped by the fact, that the first thing the tentacles did, when they captured all of them, was to remove, any and all faction symbols, like the thing had a vendetta against them. And it’s not like either the Autobots or the Decepticons will have backup, not with their entire high command bound by the vines, and steadily having all their higher processing fucked out of them. On this planet on the outer rims of the galaxy, with no sentient civilization for light-years.  
A particularly hard thrust brought them back from their thoughts, skittering charge leaping from their plates, as they lost the train of thought. As the tendrils resumed their work even harder, their last thought was: This is one hell of a way to end a civil war.


	2. Prowl POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl prided himself on having a plan for almost any situation. But really, what can you do to escape, when an ancient relic decides to make you it's newest fucktoy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo....  
> I did NOT plan on making this thing multi-chapter, but here I am.  
> And this one is nearly three times as long.... what can I say? Analytically minded characters are great for exposition purposes....I also love to make them into blubbering messes so you can say I had fun with this chapter.  
> Your comments encouraged me to post this...if you want to see me continue this, let me know.

Prowl has never felt this powerless before. Only just a joor ago, the Autobot high command received news of one of the Ancient artifacts resurfacing. The fact that they couldn’t get any specifics on the powers of the relic, not even when Oprimus consulted the Matrix. The only thing he could get from it was the word “Envelop”. But the sub-glyphs associated with the word were the most peculiar: to swallow, to conquer, to protect, to cherish. All of these contradictory descriptors... The artifact in question predated most of Cyberton’s history, so it’s not like they could find someone who has seen it in action. But the fact was, it was powerful, and the Decepticons also wanted it. So much so, that most of the Decepticon high command would be on site, this also prompted Prime to rally their forces too, and set course to the deserted planet the signal was coming from.

  
They made contact with the ‘Cons first, naturally, and in the ensuing battle, they accidentally stumbled upon the relic’s resting place. The powerful artifact didn’t particularly appreciate them making a battleground of it’s domain, if the reaction it prompted is any indication.  
They should have expected something similar from the only piece of information they got about it’s powers, but everyone was caught off-guard by the thousands of half-organic vines bursting out of the ground. The ground forces were neutralized almost instantaneously. The seekers immediately tried evasive maneuvers, but an EMP wave had them dropping out of the air like flies, the tendrils caught all of them in a surprisingly careful manner, and restrained them just like the others.

  
That’s the most he could determine of the other’s condition, because after that, the...things leapt into action. The tentacles, that bound his frame from head to pede, began to caress his plating in a mockery of interface. Dipping into seams, stoking along sensory panels with charge-laden tips. His battle-computer nearly ground to a screeching halt, popping up error message after error message because of “unexpected data '', then it resumed its calculations in an even more frantic manner, on this new line of treath. It only took a nanokilk for all of this to happen, but the artifact must have sensed the pause in his struggling, because it began to very deliberately target his data-ports.

  
The covers on the ports were meant to resist blunt force, or being pried open from the outside, not the micro-fibers that broke off from the larger tendris and made their way inside the port through the seams of the cover. Once inside, they began to deliver the same charge their larger counterparts were distributing through the outside of his frame. At the first pulse, Prowl’s entire frame stiffened, then began, rattling. His cooling fans turned on without his conscious approval, and his processor blared another string of errors at him, nearly obscuring his entire HUD. The ports were meant to be used for data transfer during interface, but, for some reason, just direct charge was reading as overwhelming pleasure for his systems.

  
Through the haze of his battle-computer trying to compensate for these new variables, he couldn’t have stopped his automatic systems from opening his port covers. The waiting tendrils eagerly dove in. There was an actual connection this time, and he frantically slammed all of his firewalls down, but much like how it didn’t need force to open his data ports, the relic somehow...weaved itself around the firewalls, like they weren’t even there, but at the same time, it was like the relic was touching his mind through a film, not really making contact, just watching as if it’s trying to figure him out.  
Well, when it sensed how his processor is becoming more and more overwhelmed, he felt it recoil, this, at least gave him some sort of satisfaction. Then, it seemingly decided on a plan of action.

  
The bigger tentacles never stopped their assault on Prowl’s frame, and now, even more of them joined, these new additions making sure to bind every inch of him in a tight embrace. After that, new, petal-like arms emerged from under him, ones big enough to envelop him completely. And that’s exactly what they did. Cut off from everything around him, bound helplessly, his battle-computer continued to run in tighter and tighter circles, evaluating and discarding potential escape plans until...it ran out of options. For the first time since his onlining, Prowl’s head was silent. It was...an unusual experience. He never could completely feel how much of his processing power was constantly used to run calculations, until it wasn’t.

  
He noticed that the tendris stopped, like they were waiting for him to come back to himself. Then, they resumed their work. And Prowl...gave in. There was literally nothing he could conceivably do to escape the predicament, and the relic wasn't trying to hurt him, that much he could gleam from the garbled feeling of reassurance and comfort it was trying to send him through his still linked data port. It was mostly reading as pleasure though, and he shivered from head to pede each and every time it sent another pulse.

  
It must have sensed his decision, because some tendrils made their way to his interface array, and slipped into its seams much the same way it did to his data port. There was no way he could keep them manually closed, not when his spike was already nearly denting the housing, and his valve’s lubricant was leaking through the seams. Once freed, his spike stood tall and glistening with pre-fluid, and his valve calipers were already flexing and loosening, interface protocols getting them ready to receive as many of the tentacles, as it possibly can. The vines holding him up began to rearrange him, spreading his legs and binding his hands behind his back. Prowl felt faintly embarrassed by the position, spread out like some kind of buymech, valve clenching eagerly, ready to get the night’s shanix.

  
Then one of the tentacles slid into his valve, somehow lighting up all his neglected nodes, and hitting his ceiling node with unerring accuracy. The resulting charge lit him up from the inside-out an obscene moan escaping from his vocalizer. The vines hovering near his face took his open intake as an invitation, and one made its home in the orifice. Sputtering, and trying to eject the offending limb, but without the use of his hands it was a lost cause. Then, the tendril began secreting a liquid, that his sensors identified as mineral-rich energon. The promise of a full tank after so long, made his tanks rumble in delight, and besides, if he refused to swallow, the tentacle would most likely just wedge itself deeper and feed him directly.

  
At the same time, the vines holding him began secreting some kind of conductive fluid. It was light green in color, and smelled faintly sweet. The charge already enveloping his frame spread with every drop of the viscous fluid. Tendrils caressed his transformation sealms, dipping below armour plates, stroking his twitching doorwings and sensitive chevron, sweet energon flowed down his intake, igniting fire in his fuel lines, and the one working his valve sped up its trust aided by the copious amount of lubricant he kept producing.

  
His first overload swept through him, his frame bowing, vision going static,transfluid painting his cassis, vocalizer only producing broken binary. He couldn’t even vent his charge properly, before he was hurtling towards another one, the tentacles working him over never stopping their assault.  
The second overload put him straight into a soft reset. He booted up after a few minutes, only to realize that the secretion cowering him didn’t let the charge dissipate. It was the second tendril circling around his valve entrance, before twining together with the other one, already slick with pale pink lubricant, the two of them together stretching his valve to capacity then grinding on his ceiling node that drove him to his third overload. After that, he lost all sense of time and self, and became just a vessel for the pleasure coursing through him.

  
He didn’t feel the relic giving a satisfied sigh, as if to say: one down, thousands to go...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now I want your opinion, what should I do next? I have a few ideas, but feel free to let me know in the comments below, what you would like to see.  
> 1\. The command trine (this is just an excuse for me to write in Screamer getting double-stuffed :D )  
> 2\. Megatron x Optimus (more worldbuilding with a good healping of smut)  
> 3\. Knockout x Breakdown (established relationship, and Knockout loving the attention he gets from the tentacles)  
> I'll get around to doing all of these, so don't worry.  
> As before, if you don't want to leave a comment, but still want to give me a gigant seratonin boost, just leave a <3 in the comment.


	3. Two nemeses bound by tentacles, five feet apart, because they're definitely gay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Two leaders...negotiate...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I may have...disappeared for a while (looks at Hades the video game)  
> This chapter was 80% written on dec 31 while I was drunk.  
> Conclusion: I have even less of a filter while drunk then I do when sober, which is an achivement in of itself.  
> In other news I now have a beta reader!!!  
> Which is great because this was already a bitch to edit. Drunk me doesn't really care abour grammar.  
> So, enjoy the PWP that somehow grew a plot on the way...

One can’t really get the scale of the power of a relic until you see it in action, but Optimus is certain, this particular one hasn't shown its true potential yet. But terrifyingly, it doesn't seem like it needs to. The combined power of the Autobot and Decepticon main force are strewn across the battlefield, tied up and struggling in the living mass that sprang from the ground to the command of the relic.  
Not even the Matrix could give enough strength to Optimus, to break the hold of the tentacles on him. But as he looks at the struggling form of his nemesis, Megatron, in front of him, it seems like no force currently in their possession would be able to break their hold.

Speaking of Megatron...the warlord is still cursing everything from the Creator to Unicron still, even though the vines bound him so tightly, he can barely see the grey armour beneath. Optimus sighs, it looks like the former gladiator would not give up his struggling until he is bound from head to pede. Apparently he is loud enough to be heard among the racket, because a pair of blazing red optics stab into him.

\- Really Prime? You have finally found a way to capture my forces and this is how you react? 

Optimus fights the urge to roll his optics.

\- As you can **clearly** see, both of our forces are currently immobilized. I wasn't the one to activate the relic, and it clearly wasn't you either. This makes the situation unpredictable…

\- Please, spare me the lecture - interrupts Megatron with a huff - the only question remaining : Who did it? We need to figure it out, because their motives will influence the artifact. And so that I can wring the life out of the coward who humiliated me this way. - he adds.

Optimus takes a longer look at the bound form of his nemesis. The abortive movements, the snappishness (even more so than usual), the optics darting about, the grinding dentae… it is all pointing towards the fact that something about this situation is causing Megatron great distress. The realization makes something unpleasant churn in Optimus’s tanks.

As for his half...Megatron is very busy with the simultaneous realization that he might have a slight affinity for being tied up, definitely helped by the fact that Optimus fragging Prime, his only worthy foe, is in front of him in the same predicament. His interfacing protocols clamor for attention with his combat ones, and he tries in vain to abort every processor chain that even remotely ties into what it would feel like to touch all that gleaming red and blue plating, to lick and nibble those cute finials to see if they are as sensitive as they appear to be - he physically shakes his helm, as if that would help him sever the train of thought. He tries to cover up his slip with his usual brand of aggression.

\- So, any bright ideas on how to stop this Primus-damned nonsense? - he snaps.

That seemed to snap Optimus out of whatever stupor he found himself in because the look he shoots him could put liquid nitrogen to shame.

\- If I had any other ideas - another audible sigh - do you honestly think I wouldn’t have tried it?

\- I dare not guess what goes on in your processor - Megatron grits out - after all, you do refuse to surrender and end this damnable war.

That was...a low blow Megatron realized as soon as the words left his vocalizer, both sides of the war changed strategies when it became clear that they were nearing the point of no return. Skirmishes becoming less violent, bots no longer shooting with the intent to kill but to incapacitate, and the two leaders locked in a never-ending standoff, uncomfortably aware that the war **had to** end one way or another or there would be no one left to rebuild afterwards.

The bound mechs stared each other down, silently daring the other to be the one to back off first. The next thing they know, all the vines encircling them light up with a soft glow of luminescence, and an insurmountable **Presence** settles over them both. Evidently, they have roused the relic’s interest or ire, either way the mounting pressure felt as if an ocean washed over them both, threatening to drown them.

~Stop your foolish squabbling at once!~

The voice booms inside their processor, reverberating through their spark. They both take a few kilks to recover their equilibrium. Surprisingly, it’s Optimus who first replies to the relic.

\- We apologize for disturbing your rest - he shoots a glare at Megatron, trying to make him understand that it would be best if he did **not** try to interject anything - we had not realized that the battlefield we chose, was your resting place...

~SILENCE~

This outburst earned Optimus some very gloating side-eye from a certain warlord, that he promptly returned with an icy glare.

~ I will not be used to wage war against your own kind! This foolishness stops here and now!~

\- And how do you intend to do that - Megatron interjects - Please enlighten us, foolish mortals.

Optimus felt like indulging in a bad habit he picked up from his human friends, specifically, facepalming. He did not think the former gladiator suicidal, but to blatantly disrespect a relic like this…

~ I believe it’s rather obvious: you either stop fighting or you will stay confined to this place. The artificial canopy provides more than enough energon to keep all of you well-fueled. And believe me when I say, I will know if you are speaking the truth or not.~

The two leaders looked at each other...they have both arrived at the conclusion that there is no conceivable way they could get out of this. Optimus let his head fall back onto the vine supporting his back. He looked up to the canopy over them.

-You know Megatron, whenever i imagined how this war would end, it never involved our forces being bound in tentacles and - he squints as he tries to make out the other bots - and being fucked senseless.

This seemingly jolted the warlord into action, as he now too scanned the battlefield and noted that, yes, it seems like the relic took it upon itself to preoccupy the cybertronians.

And as if on cue, the vines holding the two of them captive start to move with intent, secreting conductive mucus, seeking sensitive transformation seams, tickling underlying protoform. Megatron’s dismay as he realizes, that his valve already began lubricating from the...close proximity of his nemesis. He curses his late night recharge fluxes, and his speculation unit, for attempting to come up with the parameters of a Matrix-enhanced spike. As if the tentacles could smell weakness, they dive straight for his interface cover, tracing the seams, and - to his mortification - smearing around the lubricant that already seeped from between the seams. He throws his head back and tries to bite his lips to keep any compromising noises from escaping. Then a sudden whine catches his attention. He shifts his optics downward and the sight nearly makes him pop his panes.

There, in front of him is the last of the Primes, bound in glistening tentacles, being teased mercilessly with their feelers, cooling fans roaring. Then one of the appendages finds those delightful finials - he knew they were sensitive! - and Optimus lets out the most delightful of whimpers…

Optimus is in a similar situation. He always knew that there was something more...electric between the two of them, whether they were fighting physically or verbally. He is mature enough to confess that he did have some fantasies involving bending the smug decepticon over the nearest flat surface and wiping that smirk off his face with his spike. And now, Megatron is right in front of him, bound, revved up and dripping. Even if it's just his reaction to the tentacles’ teasing touch, even if it's wrong to enjoy the picture of his nemesis bound, helpless...he can't help the revving of his engine and the whirl of his spark. If only they could...well there's an idea.

-Megatron, we never did official negotiations.

The grey mech looks at him incredulously.

-Really Optimus? Here? Now?

-No time like the present, and this also ensures that neither of us - he shudders as the tendrils find a particularly sensitive node cluster along his lower back - can attack the other.

The leader of Decepticons actually seems to consider the proposal.

-All right, what kind of demands would you and your Autobots have?

Optimus considers running a self-diagnosis to confirm that he heard Megatron correctly. He then gathers himself - as much as he is able to while the vines still keep him captive.

\- The ceasing of all hostilities towards both the Autobots and other organic species. 

The warlord snorts.

-I figured as much. I want to know if your people intend to rebuild the “Golden Age” of Cybertron and if you intend to reclaim your _rightful_ place in the Primacy- he sneers

Optimus feels like something heavy dropped down into his tanks. Is...this why the Decepticons never sought peace? They thought they would go back to the caste system and the oppression that they came from?

-No - he says resolutely - we will never go back to that cesspit of corruption as long as I function! 

This seemingly surprises Megatron. Like he suddenly sees him in a whole new light. He quickly recomposes himself.

-Then how do you propose the leadership be handled.

Indeed...but Optimus only needs to look inside the matrix for the right glyphs…

-A joint leadership - this raises the grey mech’s eyeridges - there was a title the Lord High Protector. It has been unused for many millennia, the previous Primes...did not like the idea of sharing their powers. But the original purpose was exactly this: to keep power in check by dividing it.

-Let’s say I accept - the warlord replies - what would be my duties?

Optimus swallows...this is the part that makes or breaks this gambit.

-The Lord High Protector’s primary duty is to protect all of Cybertron...and to serve and Protect the Prime - he casts his gaze to the side.

-Protect and serve? Hah! I can imagine what that could have meant...but despite any of my misgivings - he sighs - I trust you not to abuse this.

Optimus whips around, and stares slack-jawed at the other mech.

~Both of you are speaking the truth.~  
The relic booms, startling both of them.

~Now you need to cement this treaty, I believe a sparkbond is appropriate for such occasion.~

Optimus gets ready to snap at the relic’s inappropriate suggestion, when Megatron speaks up.

-I’m willing if you are!

“Are you completely sure? Because I’m definitely willing but I need to know if you aren’t just doing this for the sake of peace” but all that comes out of his vocalizer is binary static.

-And besides - Megatron **opens his legs** rather invitingly - that gives us a chance to get rid of all of this pent-up charge.

The red and blue semi successfully reboots his vocalizer to croak out a rather strained “Yes”. At this point he lost the fight against both the tentacles' careful touches and the arousing picture that his nemesis makes. His interface panes opens with a click and his spike emerges, already wet with fluids. The tentacles eagerly dive down to wrap it in their slippery embrace.

This prompted Megatron to also open his panels , his silves spike just up proudly but it's his eager and clenching valve that takes the attention of the vines. One, two and then three fill him in quick succession, their width the girth of a normal mech’s spike. They slide in easily, his lubricants running in rivulets down his aft and dripping toward the writhing cables beneath. And still, his valve is hungry for more, and considering the size of the tool between Optimus’s legs...he’ll need the stretching. So he throws his helm back with abandon, as the twisting appendages light up his node clusters and hit his ceiling node with unerring accuracy.

The display in front of him is revving Optimus higher and higher. His processor fills with thought of what it would be like to be buried in that snug valve, how it would clench desperately...he knows his spike size is rather...unusual, but by the way Megatron is eyeing it like a piece of energon candy, he feels like it will not be a problem.

Megatron is lost in chasing the overload that has been building ever since they got captured by these tentacles. An overload will definitely get him relaxed enough to get that **monster** inside of himself. He shivers at the thought of that spike stretching him to his capacity limits...he overloads with a shout and with the Prime’s name on his lips.

The vines binding them take this as the sign. Optimus suddenly finds himself between gunmetal grey thighs and then he is sliding into the snug embrace of the warlord’s valve. They moan in unison, and, as if pulled by gravity, their intakes meet, glossa tangling in a passionate embrace, swallowing each other’s noises. Then, like the tide pulling back, Optimus moves. Megatron’s intake opens to let out a truly embarrassing noise as he feels the blue spike splitting him open, his valve desperately trying to match the incoming parameters. And the Prime is...not...stopping...evenly, but determinately, he pushes forward, **making** him take it. 

When he finally bottoms out, they both sigh, then he searches for his optics, silently asking for permission. He gets his answer in a rather aggressive nip to his lip plates. He pulls back with a growl, then with a rev of his engines, he moves into action.

Megatron feels like he might have offlined and gone to the Allspark. **That spike** …filling him so perfectly, like they were made for each other, stretching his valve calipers, leaving it’s imprint behind, never to be forgotten...yes, he will never be satisfied with anything else. At one point the vines must have freed their hands because now, both of their digits are stroking over plating and digging into seams to fan the pleasure higher. He tweaks one of those cute finials, just like he always imagined, and it gets a delightful involuntary trust from the other mech, which is...he now realizes with a jolt reaching all the way up to his gestational tank. This makes his engines growl and his spark spin out of control. No bot has ever gone **so deep** before.

Optimus’s thrusts are becoming more and more forceful and his dense EM field is radiating nothing but pure lust. He feels that both of them are close, so he reluctantly separates himself from that **magnificent** intake and leans back a bit. This prompts a confused look from the mech beneath him, that is washed away when he unlocks his chest plates and bares his spark. It only takes a moment, until Megatron’s chest plates are also sliding open, then they are crashing them together, like it was always meant to be like this.

Their consciousnesses blur together, pleasure rushing through the fast forming bond, spiraling higher and higher until they both overload, Megatron’s valve desperately trying to clench down, a veritable torrent of lubricant shooting out, and Oprimus emptying his transfluid deep into Megatron’s valve. So much of it in fact, that it rushes up and up, filling his gestational tank, triggering a second overload.

Sated, their sparks separate, their chest plates sliding back to protect them, while both of them fall into a deep recharge, the new bond quietly thrumming in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOHOO!  
> Now I just need to figure out what the next chapter should be....FUCK  
> Well, anyways, my current ideas and ones that other suggested:  
> -Command trine  
> -StarsreamxSkyfire  
> -Knockout and Breakdown  
> Feel free to throw ideas my way in the comments :3  
> And as always: if you want to make me squeal like the little fangirl I am, but you're shy about leaving comments, just leave a "<3"

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts down below.  
> If you don't want to comment, but still would like to let me know you liked the fic, consider leaving me a "<3" in the comments.  
> Thank you!


End file.
